


The Night of the Anguished Agent

by Esgalnen



Category: Wild Wild West (TV)
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Complete, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/M, Gen, Happy Ending, M/M, Near Death Experience
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-11
Updated: 2018-05-11
Packaged: 2019-05-05 05:52:52
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 18,541
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14610891
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Esgalnen/pseuds/Esgalnen
Summary: AU this is a slightly different version of the Wild Wild West Episode ‘The Night of the Pistoleros’ and is pretty much a ‘What If?’ Story.  My OC Characters are Dr Elizabeth McKenzie, Eleanor Talbot and Colonel Robert Gardner.  It also references two creations of mine, Richmond's Ladies & Benito's Girls, two groups of female agents who work for their government in a similar capacity to West & Gordon. After much thought I decided to re-edit this story to include Artie being Jim's Best Man.





	The Night of the Anguished Agent

**Author's Note:**

> The Wild Wild West and its characters belong to CBS Productions and I have only taken them out of my shoebox to play with for a little while.

The Night Of The Anguished Agent

 

How James West made it back to Fort Challenge he never remembered. He had a vague memory of Colonel Roper helping him to his feet, and guiding him to a chair; of a glass being pressed into his hand and him being forced to drink.

How long he sat there he never knew. He was aware in a vague, hazy sort of way of Colonel Roper’s hand on his shoulder and then he was alone in his agony.

The journey back was a haze of misery – once or twice Jim thought he caught Colonel Roper eyeing him thoughtfully, but he was past caring. He was grateful to the Colonel for taking charge once they were back at the Fort. Somehow he excused himself and retired to his quarters.

When Fort Challenge was finally silent, Jim crept along the corridors of the darkened building until he reached the room. A single lamp was burning and to West’s surprise, an honour guard stood silent vigil over the coffin. He nodded quietly and for once, West was stunned into silence. He removed his hat and went to stand at the head of the casket. Taking the penknife from his pocket he began carving a six-pointed ‘Magen David’ into the top right hand corner.

Then slipping the penknife away West straightened up and swallowed. On one of their long train journeys Artemus had posited that their jobs were dangerous – and the possibility of their deaths very real. Jim remembered that he had nodded, for one of the few times in his life Artie looked uncomfortable, “Jim, you know that I’m Jewish?” West had nodded again, but Artemus was continuing, “I have no son – and in this job I’m unlikely to ever find the ‘right’ woman. If I should get killed – I want you to do something for me-”

“Name it, Buddy,” West’s response was automatic.

“Say Kaddish for me?” Artemus sighed, “it’s supposed to be said by a son; or a brother and with a minyan of at least ten men, but you might be pushed to find one of those out here-” he paused at the look of consternation on Jim’s face, “a minyan is a group of ten men needed for worship in a Synagogue. You are my brother in every sense of the word.”

“When and how often?”

Artemus swallowed, “On the day of my death – and its anniversary.”

“How long for?” Jim asked.

“Normally it would be forever.” Artemus replied, “but I wouldn’t hold you to that – for as long as you can bear it.” He gave his friend a taut smile, “I’ll teach you – both the Aramaic and the English.”

So now, as Jim stood at the head of his friend’s coffin, he remembered that conversation, and swallowing hard began to speak:

 

“Yit-ga-dal v’yit ka-dash;

Sh’meih raba;

B’al-ma di-v’ra;

Khi-r’-u-teih;

V’yam likh mal-khu-teih;

B’kha yei-khon uv-yo-mei-khon;

Uv-kha-yei;

D’khol beit yis-ra-eil;

Ba-a-ga-la u-viz-‘man ka-riv;

V’-im-‘ru;

Amein.”

 

West put his hands on the Coffin to steady himself, the English words floating through his mind:

 

_‘Exalted and sanctified be_

_God’s great name_

_in the World which God created_

_according to God’s will_

_and may God rule the Divine realm_

_in your lifetime and in your days,_

_and in the lifetime of_

_the entire House of Israel_

_speedily and in the near future,_

_and let us say:_

_Amen.’_

 

He swallowed against the knives in his throat, and opening his mouth found he couldn’t speak, suddenly a light, clear voice spoke into the silence-

 

“Y-hei sh’mei raba m’va-rakh

L’-a-lam ul’-al-mei al-ma-yah.

Yit-ba-rakh v-yish-ta-bakh

V’-yit-pa-ar v’-yit-ro-mam v’-yit-na-sei;

V’-yit ha-dar v’-yit-a-leh v’-yit-ha-lal

Sh’-meih d’-ku-d’sha

B’-rikh hu-”

 

West’s head snapped up and his eyes met those of the young soldier. A small smile of gratitude crossed his face and together they managed to complete the prayer. When they’d finished, West nodded gratefully to the young man and replacing his hat; slipped quietly from the room.

Colonel Roper had assigned him a room at the base and divesting himself of his gun belt and hat; Jim lay down on the bed and closed his eyes. Sleep did not come easily, finally he fell into a fitful slumber; he was standing in front of Artie’s broad-shouldered figure. He jerked awake, certain that there was something he’d missed, certain that there was something Artie had asked him and he couldn’t remember!

Scrubbing a sleeve across his face, he sat up and got off the bunk. Pouring water from the ewer into the basin, he splashed his face. Then, strapping on his gun belt, he replaced his hat on his head and made a second visit to the casket where his friend was resting. A different honour guard was on duty, he gave West a brief salute and from somewhere James West managed to dredge up a small smile.

Removing his hat again, West stood, holding it in front of the wooden box, his eyes fixed on the casket. _Goodbye, Artie. You were the best friend and partner anyone could ask for. Telegrams tomorrow,_ he thought brokenly, _and I’ll have to-_ he swallowed hard again, a wave of misery threatening to overwhelm him. He wanted to open the coffin; to stare down at that well-remembered face, to confirm that it was indeed Artemus Gordon. Then he sighed, laying a hand on the casket he made a vow, “I’ll make sure you’re avenged Artie, if it costs me my life. I’ll find Sanchos and I promise, for as long as I live, I’ll never forget you.” Then he replaced his hat, saluted and left. Back in his room, West took an inventory of his equipment for the ride the next morning. West was grateful to the Colonel; not many men would have had the courtesy to post an honour guard to stand vigil over the casket, although Artemus Gordon deserved it many times over.

He packed his equipment away and lay down on the bank, his hands behind his head. In his mind he was talking to Artemus, _I’ll get them for you, pal,_ he said silently, _Sanchos and the others will pay._

 ** _James-my-boy,_** Jim started, for a moment he thought he heard Artie’s rich, warm voice right next to his ear, ** _don’t worry about me, get some sleep now. Everything will be all right in the morning._** And to his surprise, Jim dropped swiftly and dreamlessly into slumber. It was reveille that awoke him. For a few moments his first thoughts were of Artie and then memory returned as if a bucket of water had been dumped on him; Artie’s funeral was this morning. But first he had more telegrams to send. The paperwork seemed never-ending; a telegram to Colonel Richmond; ARTEMUS GORDON KILLED IN LINE OF DUTY STOP FULL REPORT TO FOLLOW STOP. Then another telegram to Artie’s sole surviving relative, an Uncle Mordecai in California; and then finally the hardest telegram James West would ever have to write; the one to Lily Fortune. He didn’t know where her company were performing that he addressed it ‘Care Of’ the Theatre Company she was a member of and marked it **Urgent**. Then he began to write – space was at a premium so all he wrote was: LILY SO VERY SORRY STOP ARTEMUS KILLED YESTERDAY IN LINE OF DUTY STOP WILL TAKE POSSESSION OF FLAG FOR YOU STOP LOVE JIM STOP

The final telegram nearly made the tears start again and he had to swallow two or three times before he could speak without his voice cracking. Then his back ramrod straight he turned and left the Telegraph office. How he endured the funeral he never knew, he never even remembered the words Colonel Roper spoke. He remembered the sound of the rifles firing; him saluting and being presented with the flag then staring down at the hole next to which the casket now rested. Then he realised that he was alone in the cemetery and his lips set in a thin line he followed Colonel Roper and the rest of the soldiers away from the freshly dug grave.

Colonel Roper came towards him as West entered the office, “Goodbye, Colonel.” He said shortly.

“There’s never anything to be said at a time like this, the loss of a comrade after so many years. But if it’s of any comfort to you West, remind yourself that he was a soldier and he died like one.”

“The comfort will come, Colonel, from finding the man that shot him in the back.” There was a bleakness in West’s eyes that hadn’t been present before and his face was a cold mask of fury. Colonel Roper almost pitied the man that James West was seeking. “What will you do now?” He asked.

“Something you can’t do, I’m going to cross that border into Mexico.”

“Yes, it’s true that I can’t lead an armed force into Mexico, but I can and will, go myself. The assassination of Gordon has brought the border situation to a head; Colonel Vega has agreed to meet with me. Oh, er, Mr West, I’d appreciate it if when you’re in the area you’d inform Colonel Vega that I’ll be at his headquarters shortly after dawn.”

“Colonel,” Jim replied shortly. He’d only half-listened to the remainder of Colonel Roper’s instructions, all he could think about was getting to Tohachi to find Sanchos and then – well with Sanchos’s death, perhaps the comfort he’d spoken of to Colonel Roper would come.

He mounted his horse and then urged the beast forward. At the outskirts of the town he dismounted; tying Blackjack to the hitching post. “That’s him,” one of the figures standing in the shadows on the other side of the road spoke. “Marianne is waiting in the cantina. I’m going up to the roof to give the signal; let the others know he’s been spotted.”

“What’s the news?”

“Nothing good. I’ll fill you in later. Stay here and watch – if he leaves I want to know where he’s going.”

“Colonel,” the other person replied, and Colonel Gonzalez quietly slipped into the night. The cantina was crowded and West moved wearily up to the bar and ordered a tequila. Marianne stepped down from the table, her performance finished. Sidling up to the bar she panted, “Hola Americano.”

He didn’t respond, and a wave of sympathy ran through her, as he ran a hand across his face, she spoke, “I drink tequila too!”

“Here, drink this one,” he pushed the glass across to her and then looked across at the Barman, “una tequila, por favor.”

Marianne regarded him quietly; there was a weariness in his shoulders that spoke of a burden almost too great to bear. The Barman poured another glass and despite his obvious anguish, West raised his vessel and said softly, “Salut.”

“Salut,” she responded quietly, and took a small sip of her drink. Colonel Gonzalez had told to keep Mr West was long as possible, but something in this officer’s shoulders told her that stopping him would be like trying to stop a river. She would do her best – but she didn’t think she would have much success. “Who you kill?” She asked softly, closing the gap between them.

“No one,” he replied tiredly, resting his arms on the bar.

“You on the run,” she murmured, “and you come to Mexico to hide because you steal much money-”

“No,” West toyed with his glass, “I’m looking for someone; that’s why.”

“A man or a woman?” Marianne asked.

“A man,” West replied.

Marianne pressed herself against up against him, “So am I.”

West ignored her and again ran a hand across his face, “This man’s name is Sanchos. Do you know him?”

Marianne shook her head quickly, perhaps too quickly because he eyed her thoughtfully, “Why don’t you ask your friends?”

She regarded him quietly for a couple of minutes and then turned to the Barman, asking quickly if he knew a man called Sanchos, West surveyed him quietly and continued, “he has a large moustache – and carries a bone handled knife.”

The Barman leant forward and said quietly, “Señor, por favor, you leave my cantina now.” He paused.

“Why?” West leant forward, and Marianne hoped that the message got through, this man suddenly looked dangerous.

“Because when there’s trouble the soldados come.”

“Why is the going to be trouble?” The turn of Jim’s voice belied the tautness in his body.

The Barman spread his hands, palm upwards in a half-shrug, “If you don’t leave my cantina now, my friends are gonna throw you out, and that, Señor, is trouble-”

West shifted position, preparing to grab the bartender when suddenly the door was flung open. Jim turned to see two soldiers, their rifles trained on him. Taking a deep breath, he picked up his hat and flicked a silver coin onto the bar. “Adios,” he said quietly.

“Adios, Señor,” Marianne murmured, but she doubted whether he heard her.

 

WWWW

 

“A representative of a foreign government is expected to present his credentials to the proper authority – in the province of Sonora, Señor West, _I_ am the proper authority.” Colonel Vega eyed the young man standing in front of him; the soldiers had only just reached the Cantina in time, Consuela’s message had caught him as he was about to eat. He sighed again; there was a tautness to this young man that worried him.

West spoke, “I know that, Colonel Vega. But I didn’t want to disturb your evening.”

“But I have been disturbed.” Vega responded exasperated, “my dinner was interrupted.”

West swallowed, “My apologies, Colonel, that since I am here, I have a message from Colonel Roper.”

Vega turned back to face him, “He plans to come here?”

“Early tomorrow.”

“Meanwhile you will continue the search for this man, Sanchos?”

West looked up, “With your permission.”

Vega sighed, “Yes. Since he killed your friend; I suspect you will continue with, or without my permission. Therefore I grant it.”

“Thank you, Colonel,” West replaced his hat and turned to leave, but Colonel Vega’s voice stopped him.

“Do you have any idea who you are looking for?”

West half-turned and bleak green eyes met Colonel Vega’s warm brown ones, “Oh, I know the man all right,” he reached into his saddlebags and brought out a bone-handled knife, “and I know his weapon. Goodbye, Colonel, and thank you again.” Then he was gone.

A young woman stepped into the room behind Colonel Vega, “Sir?” She queried softly.

“Have you got eyes on Mr West?” Vega asked quietly.

“Yes Sir,” she replied, “what do you want us to do?”

“Just keep an eye on him. I’m concerned about his well-being.”

“And Sanchos?”

Vega scowled, “I don’t particularly care what happens to Sanchos. I do, however, care what happens to Mr West.”

“And if he kills Sanchos?”

Vega shrugged, “This country can live without scum like Sanchos.”

She nodded in reply, and then silent as a cat, slipped out of the room.

 

WWWW

 

It was the pain in his wrists that woke Artie the first time. Through the mental fuzziness he recognised the figure of Armando Galiano., “Señor Galiano,” he managed, and thanked all the Saints that he managed to speak without slurring, “to what do I owe the pleasure?”

“Mr Gordon, ever the professional.” Galiano smirked, an evil grin curling his lips, “you will note that your voice has recovered.”

Gordon swallowed and realised Galiano was correct. “May I ask what I am doing here?”

Galiano smiled expansively, “I believe my plan to take over Sonora and then Mexico is proceeding admirably.” He stepped back and Artie’s eyes widened in shock as he realised that he was staring at his double! But Galiano was still speaking, “Dr Winterrich is very skilful – and his work on this occasion is superb, no es?”

Artemus swallowed and finally found his voice, “So this was why my partner and I were ambushed at that homestead.”

Galiano clicked his tongue behind his teeth, “Si, Señor Gordon. My Pistoleros had orders to kill your partner and bring you to me.”

“Why?”

Galiano continued expansively, “It was necessary for me to have a man inside Fort Challenge; so when I received intelligence that a Lieutenant Alvin Murray was being transferred there I decided to replace him. I reasoned that Lieutenant Murray was unknown in this part of the world. However,” Galiano grinned evilly, “Charlie Tobin had _seen_ Murray and became suspicious – which is when he wrote to your President.”

“I’m sorry if Mr West and I upset your plans,” Artie replied sarcastically.

“A mere hitch,” Galiano replied, “and luck was with me as you came to Bernal’s Photography shop. It meant I could apprehend you and set this plan in motion.”

“I suppose my double is going to kill my partner,” Gordon snapped.

Galiano looked shocked, “Oh no, Señor Gordon, your partner will see _you_ die. After you have verified the identity of Lieutenant Murray. Sanchos does not know he’s killing the double of course – he believes it is you.”

“And then what?” Artie demanded, “a firing squad for me, perhaps?”

“Oh no, Señor Gordon,” Galiano laughed, “you are my ‘ace in the hole’ so to speak. I am sure that President grant would pay handsomely for the return of one of his best Secret Service Agents.”

 _I doubt it_ , Artie thought grimly. He watched as the fake Artemus Gordon and Armando Galiano left. After that Artie had no real sense of time except from the lamp hanging from the ceiling. At some point he was brought frijoles and water and he surmised that it was probably evening. He dozed for a while, but was woken by the sound of raucous laughter and he wondered what was happening. He didn’t have long to find out, Galiano swept into the room smiling broadly. “You will be pleased to know that the first part of my plan has succeeded admirably – Sanchos killed _you_ in Tohachi; after you confirmed the identity of Alvin Murray. I understand that your partner knelt over your body after Sanchos struck the fatal blow. You have been declared dead – as I understand it a fine military funeral was held for you at Fort Challenge.”

Artemus glared back at Señor Galiano, the brown eyes filled with fury. He didn’t respond to the man’s taunts and for a moment, Galiano felt a slight shiver run up his spine. Shrugging it off he gave the bound figure a broad smile, “I will see you again, soon, Señor Gordon.”

After that Artie was left alone for some considerable time. A dry enchilada was brought to him and he forced himself to eat, knowing that he had to keep up his strength. He was tied up again and this time an armed Pistolero was set to keep watch on him. He thought he might have dozed again, he wasn’t sure. He woke to hear clattering outside the room he was held in. The door opened and five men entered – two almost identical. Galiano smiled, “Artemus Gordon meet _my_ Colonel Roper. Colonel Roper meet Colonel Roper. I’m sorry, but I haven’t time for further introductions; I believe that Señor West is becoming suspicious and I need to move you, Mr Gordon.”

Artie was hauled to his feet, gagged and a sack pulled over his head, “You must understand, Señor Gordon,” Galiano purred silkily, “I cannot let you see our destination.”

Artie didn’t respond; couldn’t respond, he had merely glared at the Mexican until Galiano pulled the sack over his head obscuring his vision. It was a brown burlap sack Artie thought, probably to hold grain and smelt faintly of mildew. He’d been tied in the back of the wagon; both his wrists and ankles bound this time. _One thing was certain,_ Artie mused, _Galiano was taking **no** chances._ For a while Artie struggled against the ropes, but they were tied too tightly. He wondered too about the fake Colonel Roper and what his rôle in the whole affair might be – and even if the real Colonel Roper was still alive. He tried his ropes again and winced as they cut into his wrists. Cursing under his breath, he attempted to sit up – to try and get some more leverage but was forced to abandon the attempt. Finally he managed to rub the sack off his head and looked around; he was lying in the bottom of what appeared to be a Prairie Schooner. It was empty, not even a discarded knife was lying on the floor. He cursed again, and then stiffened as the wagon stopped.

A voice spoke in Spanish, “Señor Galiano, salga de su asiento o lo mato.” Mentally Gordon translated the words, _Get out of your seat or I’ll kill you._

He heard Galiano protest, “Por favor, estoy transportando a un prisionero peligroso-” _Please, I’m transporting a dangerous prisoner._

 _Well they got that right,_ Artemus thought grimly, he heard the crack of the rifle shot and again cursed under his breath. Suddenly he felt a warm hand on his shoulder, “Easy there, Mr Gordon, we’ll soon have you out of those ropes.” He sat up and as she proffered the dagger to cut the bindings around his ankles, he looked up into a pair of familiar dark eyes “Colonel Gonzalez!”

“Señor Gordon,” she replied, and then her brow furrowed when she saw the rope burns on his wrists, “you’re injured!”

Artemus glanced down at his wrists, “I sometimes upset people,” he admitted.

“We’d better get going,” she smiled, “we’ve lots of work to do.”

Gordon nodded quickly; as he stepped down from the covered wagon he saw the four women. As one of them lifted her head his eyes lit up, “By all that’s Holy! Elizabeth!”

A shy smile touched the young woman’s lips as she dismounted and hugged Artemus, “Good to see you, Artie.”

Artemus hugged her in return and then held her away from him, “It’s wonderful to see you again, Beth, but what you doing here?”

“Eleanor and I are here with the permission of Presidenté Juarez and Colonel Gonzalez.”

“Lupita, please, the dark-haired woman smiled, “you know my bodyguard Lieutenant Ramirez.”

“Looking as lovely as ever,” despite his injuries Artemus sketched a bow, “Encantada, Señorita.” A faint blush crept up Lieutenant Ramirez’s cheeks.

“And Captain Lopez who infiltrated the Pistoleros and provided much of our information regarding their movements.”

“Captain,” Gordon acknowledged, “Colonel, what happens now?”

“Señor Galiano’s plan was to take over Sonora and then Mexico. Your double was murdered by Sanchos – and now one of Galiano’s men is preparing to invade Mexico.”

“The double of Colonel Roper,” Artemus said slowly.

“We’ll get back to Señor Galiano’s Hacienda and free Colonel Roper,” Colonel Gonzalez said, “and then he and I will get to Colonel Vega and try to stop this invasion.”

“And Jim?” Artie asked quickly, perhaps too quickly.

Beth put a hand on his arm, “He was spotted leaving Tohachi – to meet the real Colonel Roper, that was yesterday evening.”

“And I encountered both the Colonel and his double yesterday afternoon, when Señor Galiano sent the fake Colonel Roper to Fort Challenge.” Artemus swore, “Damn! How do we stop the fake Colonel Roper?”

“That’s where your special talent comes in,” Elizabeth replied. “Let’s get under way, Mr Gordon.”

 

WWWW

 

West strode into Colonel Roper’s office, a relieved expression on his face, removing his hat he strode into the room, “How are you feeling Colonel?”

Roper pulled the whiskey bottle from the right bottom drawer, and set it on his desk, “Fine, fine,” he replied. “Nothing serious. Just a slight concussion. Have you uncovered anything?”

“Yes, Sir. I found the man who killed Artemus Gordon; but he died before he could tell me who the head Pistolero was.”

Roper gave him a broad smile and Jim felt the first stirrings of uneasiness in his gut, “His identity isn’t that much of a mystery.”

“You know who it is, Sir?” Jim asked puzzled.

“Come, come, Mr West, these terrorists couldn’t operate out of Mexico without the knowledge and sanction of Vega’s Garrison.”

“You’ve found new evidence,” Jim’s tone was flat, expressionless.

“Evidence?” Colonel Roper replied, “isn’t that what you were sent down here to get? I must tell you, Mr West, that a full report has been sent to President Grant from Fort Apache.”

At that moment, Lieutenant Murray, who’d entered the office with the other Senior Officers of Fort Challenge’s Garrison, handed Colonel Roper a missive. Opening it, Roper spoke, “Gentlemen, a communiqué from the Commander-in-Chief. I quote the President: ‘These repeated border violations by the Pistoleros; along with the brutal murder of Artemus Gordon – and the attack against Colonel Roper constitute warlike actions by a foreign power. I therefore direct that prompt and retributive measures be taken against the Sonoran Garrison in Mexico.’”

“That’s clear enough, Sir.” The major on West’s left spoke.

Roper cleared his throat, “There’s only one interpretation of this, Gentlemen. This means war.”

West spoke, “Colonel, before you take action, don’t you think you should confirm that telegram.”

“Confirm?” Roper stared at him.

“The courier who delivered the dispatch is not completely above suspicion”

“I had the impression that Captain Gordon vouched for me.” Murray glared at him.

Jim continued to stare at Colonel Roper, “Your identity – not your patriotism.” He said slowly.

Murray’s reaction was instant, “I demand an apology-”

Colonel Roper interrupted, “Gentlemen, if there is to be any fighting, let it be against the Sonora Garrison. We attack at dawn.”

West spoke, “Good,” he turned, “that’ll give me just enough time to get to Fort Apache to check out that telegram-”

“Or to Colonel Vega,” Roper interjected, “when you question the Commander-In-Chief, I begin to doubt your patriotism, Sir!” West marched towards him, a hard look on his face, “lock him up!” Roper demanded.

Jim was grabbed and despite his best efforts, was dragged, fighting every inch of the way until he was flung into the cell next to the Pistolero he’d brought in earlier. Taking a moment to regain his balance, Jim shook the bars of his cell, “Hey, wake up, Pistolero!”

The man lying on the bank in the other cell opened his eyes and looked across at West, “Eh, gringo,” he laughed, “they finally caught you!”

“How would you like to get out of here?” Jim asked.

The Pistolero shrugged, “I’ll get out – feet first.” He gave a hollow laugh.

“Not if you use your head,” West responded, “you can walk out with me. Just tell me who the Head Pistolero is.”

The Mexican raised his head and regarded West for a long moment, finally he spoke, “First you get yourself out – then-” he shrugged, “maybe I tell you.”

Jim regarded him quietly for a couple of moments and then from beneath his lapel took out a thin wire.

The Pistolero watched him walk across to the cell door and laughed as Jim inserted the wire into the lock. Then, his expression changed as West pulled open the door, “Ay caramba!” He cried as he rose to his feet.

Carefully pulling the cell door closed, West regarded the Mexican, “Silencio!” He ordered.

“That’s very good, Señor,” the Pistolero whispered, and as West approached him, he continued, “Now. Open my door.”

Jim held up the lock pick, “First the name.”

A look of fear crossed the Pistolero’s face, “I can’t, Señor.” He turned his face away, a spasm of regret crossing his face.

“You can nod can, can’t you?” West asked slowly.

“Si.” The Pistolero replied slowly.

“Armando Galiano,” West said slowly, holding the Pistolero’s gaze. For a long moment they stood regarding one another and then the Pistolero gave a slow nod. Although he didn’t show it, a wave of triumph rose in James West’s heart; finally – he was going to get the man responsible for the death of his best friend. “I thought so,” he said slowly and then he was gone, out of the window, followed by the outraged shouts of the Pistolero he’d left in the cell. Mounting Blackjack he’d galloped away from Fort Challenge towards Armando Galiano’s hacienda.

All was quiet when Jim reached the building. Slipping from Blackjack’s back, he slid his Colt .45 from its holster and crept into the house.

The drawing room was silent, and for a moment West wondered where Galiano was. Something flickered on the edge of his vision, and he turned to see a middle-aged man leaning over the balcony at the top of the stairs.

“Who are you?” West demanded, “and where is Colonel Roper?”

Something else flickered on his other side and West turned to face it – but suddenly he felt a sharp pain in his neck and sank unconscious to the carpet. He half-awoke to find himself firmly tied up in the back of what seemed to be a covered wagon; Dr Winterrich was staring down at him, a look of curiosity on his face. “Ah, Mr West, you have decided to join us. You will note the unpleasant taste in the back of your throat – yes?” As he spoke, West swallowed and grimaced, there was indeed a foul sting in the back of his throat. He swallowed again, wondering what it was. He didn’t have to wait too long, Dr Winterrich had an evil smile on his lips, “You have been given a dose of Peyote.”

West’s eyes widened, he’d heard of the drug of course, some of the Native American Shamans used the cacti to commune with the spirits during religious ceremonies. “I was curious to see how it affected an unconscious man; but no matter; its effect on the conscious mind will also be – interesting.” He paused and turned away, began to clear away the paraphernalia surrounding them. Jim struggled vainly against the manacles and Dr Winterrich turned back, “I really wouldn’t bother, Mr West, I’ve checked and double-checked those chains. I would try and relax if I were you – after all I have no idea of the effects of Peyote on an agitated system.” He continued speaking, but Jim was no longer hearing him, a fly had been buzzing around the doctor’s head – and suddenly it seemed as though the insect’s flight had slowed and West suddenly thought that if he stared hard enough he could begin to see the movement of the wings. A hand shook his shoulder roughly and he slewed his head round to stare into the face of a monster. A great cavernous maw opened up; venom dripping from the incisors; fighting the fear that threatened to overwhelm him, Jim tried to shrink away from the face, but it was looming closer, closer, a terrified whimper he couldn’t suppress broke from his lips; just as the mouth opened to reveal a scarlet throat, before sweeping forward and devouring him.

Dr Winterrich leaned back a small, self-satisfied smile curving the lips. West was writhing on the bunk in front of him; the sea-green eyes wide with terror and whimpers were emerging from his throat. An evil smile curved Dr Winterrich’s lips, “Fascinating,” was all he said.

The flaps at the front of the wagon opened and a young man poked his head inside, he took one look at the writhing man and asked, “Everything all right, Doctor? Shall we go on?”

Winterrich waved the man away, “Yes, let’s get moving.” The man nodded and then disappeared back onto the seat.

Ever afterwards, West would remember the rest of that day as an experience from hell. The world bent and twisted; plunging him into a world that was full of demons and monsters. Their maws open to show their pointed fangs, dripping with poison. Despite his attempts to get away from these creatures he was pinioned in place as if held in amber. Eventually, the whole experience overwhelmed him and the world faded into blankness.

It was a headache that woke him, he peeled open sticky eyelids to find himself staring up into the face of a young man. West was sure that he knew him, but for some reason his mind refused to work, “Water,” he croaked.

The man’s lips moved – he may have even smiled, but Jim wasn’t sure. Then he had turned away and when he turned back he was holding a tin cup. Jim drank gratefully, the cool water soothing his parched and sore throat. He’d just finished when Dr Winterrich entered the cell – for some reason West was reminded of a carrion crow. “Ah, Mr West, awake at long last! Now I can begin my experiments!”

“The least you could do is let me have something to eat and drink.” West muttered.

Dr Winterrich canted his head, “Certainly, Mr West, however you will accept that I must take precautions.” West glared at him, but didn’t respond. Winterrich regarded him silently for a moment or two and then left the room; when he returned he was accompanied by two hard -looking men, both carrying cocked weapons. “I urge you not to attempt an escape, Mr West,” Winterrich almost purred, “it would do you no good.”

West swallowed, “It seems I have little or no choice, Doctor.” He never knew how he got to his feet, his muscles felt like water and he half-staggered, half-limped to the water closet. Perspiration was streaming from his body when he tottered back to the bed he’d been manacled to. He watched with a curious indifference as one wrist was reattached to the metal headboard. Another tin cup of water was brought and two quesadillas. He ate slowly; truthfully he wasn’t particularly hungry but he knew that he’d have to eat keep his strength up. When he’d finished the two gunslingers forced him back down onto the bed and his remaining wrist and ankles were handcuffed to the metal bed frame. “Now that you’ve had your sustenance,” Dr Winterrich spoke, “we can begin.”

 

WWW

 

Colonel Gonzalez and the others made good time back to Galiano’s Hacienda. The place looked deserted, but even so they crept in quietly. They found a semi-conscious Colonel Roper in the cellar. A few Pistoleros tried to ambush them as they slipped down to the basement but they were dispatched quickly and efficiently. When Artemus forced open Roper’s cell door the man stared up at him as if he was an apparition. “Gordon! We buried you!”

“You buried a poor fool,” Gordon said as he cut Roper’s bonds.

The Colonel looked up at him gratefully, rubbing his wrists to restore the circulation. “What happens now?” He asked.

“The fake Colonel Roper is planning to invade Mexico using American forces.” Gordon replied.

“Vega’s Garrison will be wiped out,” Colonel Gonzalez spat, “any suggestions, Captain Gordon?”

“I’ll go and meet Colonel Vega,” Roper said quietly, “see if this invasion can be halted.”

“Let me take a look around,” Artie remarked, “Galiano said something about stockpiling uniforms. Maybe-” he left the remainder of the sentence unspoken and his mouth set in a firm line, quietly left the room.

When he returned Colonel Gonzalez gasped, “General Riddell! Where did you spring from?”

Elizabeth stepped out from behind him, a wry grin curving her lips, “Actually it’s Artemus Gordon.”

Lupita Gonzalez shook her head, laughing, “Thank all the gods! Captain Gordon I’m glad you’re on our side.”

“Shall we get moving?” Beth suggested.

 

WWW

 

Afterwards, Jim would freely admit that he never knew exactly what Dr Winterrich hoped to accomplish. Certainly he set to with a relish that made West feel slightly nauseous, although that too could have been the drugs. Whatever the reason, West felt the first stirrings of fear. Dr Winterrich had given him another injection – one of his own ‘concoctions’ he’d said, and it took all of Jim’s self-control not to shudder. This time it felt as if every nerve and sinew was on fire, despite West’s best efforts he writhed in the manacles; the agony threatening to overwhelm him. Finally spent, he could do nothing except lie helpless as Winterrich released him and examined his wrists. He sank into unconsciousness wondering about Armando Galiano.

When he awoke a few hours later he was lucid and thankfully alone. Dawn was beginning to poke soft grey fingers into the cell and West surmised that it must be about five in the morning. His thoughts turned towards his friend, _I avenged your death, Artie,_ he thought, _I shall probably see you very soon._

Suddenly, it was as if he heard Artie’s warm voice in his head, ** _Hold on, James. Hold on._** And with those words, West slid into sleep. He woke slowly, his head throbbing painfully; his mouth dry as a bone. The door opened and one of the Pistoleros entered carrying a cup of water and a tin plate of tortillas. Jim lay limp, his eyes half-closed, feigning unconsciousness. The Pistolero set the items down on the bedside table and then bent to unshackle Jim’s wrists. West kept still as possible, the man prodded him roughly in the side. “Wake up!” He demanded.

Jim feigned sluggishness, prompting the Pistolero to prod him harder. Slowly he opened his eyes and pretended that he was feeling the after-effects of Dr Winterrich’s latest concoction. The Pistolero unlocked the manacles around West’s ankles and wrists and then hauled him to a sitting position. Jim let his body hang limply, as if even sitting up was too much, therefore the Pistolero was taken aback when West’s arm came up and he fired the derringer point blank into the man’s chest.

For a few moments Jim sat there staring stupidly at the supine figure. Slowly, he got to his feet; the room seemed to be spinning, but somehow, he managed to get to the door. Nausea roiling through him he stumbled outside and almost immediately fell to his knees. How long he knelt outside the building he never knew but from somewhere he dredged up the remainder of his strength to get to his feet and stagger forward. There was only one horse in the stables, a bay mare, saddled and bridled. The relief he felt at seeing the animal drove him to his knees again.

Mounting was difficult, somehow he managed to take the reins and lead the animal across to the mounting block, thankfully she was very gentle and allowed West to guide her across the stable floor. How he managed to scramble onto the saddle he never knew, his head was spinning and his hands were shaking. Terror wound itself into knots in his stomach; at any moment he expected someone to exit the house and sound the alarm. But all remained silent as the grave. Slowly, he managed to persuade the mare to move off into the darkness, hoping he could stay conscious long enough to guide her back to the Wanderer.

 

WWW

 

“Where in the Name of all the Seven Hells is he?” Artemus demanded. He’d been pacing the varnish car since before dawn. The ‘fake’ Colonel Roper and Lieutenant Murray had both been arrested and sent for trial. But there had been no sign of James West, only Blackjack stood forlornly outside the deserted Hacienda. There had been no sign of Dr Winterrich either. Artemus ran a hand through his dark hair, the brown eyes flashing, “Is it possible that Dr Winterrich abducted Jim?” He demanded.

The young, dark-haired woman sitting on the settee looked up, “Yes. It’s perfectly possible – although I do not know why.”

“I do.” Colonel Gonzalez entered the varnish car, her expression grave, “before he began to ‘dabble’ in plastic surgery he served in your Civil War.” Colonel Gonzalez said softly, “he was assigned to one of the Prisoner of War Camps.”

“Which one?” Beth asked, a guarded expression on her face. “Not Susquehanna?”

Colonel Gonzalez didn’t reply and Beth bit her lower lip, “Oh Christ.”

“What?” Eleanor had just entered the varnish car. Artemus looked up, suddenly seeming to see her for the first time. “We were discussing Dr Winterrich,” he said slowly.

“He was assigned as the prison doctor to Susquehanna Prisoner of War Camp,” Colonel Gonzalez said quietly, “his ‘experiments’ on some of the prisoners-” she swallowed, unable to continue.

Eleanor raised an auburn eyebrow, “What experiments?”

“He experimented with peyote in varying strengths; and with another drug, one that he said he developed himself.”

“What was it?” Eleanor asked.

“We don’t know. We only know that it cause the most horrendous hallucinations,” Lupita cleared her throat, “Winterrich’s tests included systematically increasing the dosage to see what effect it would have on the prisoners. I believe that at least ten men died.”

“You think he may have done the same to Mr West?” Beth asked quietly, a flutter of fear curling in her gut. Colonel Gonzalez nodded silently, suddenly unable to speak.

Eleanor’s face paled and she sat down heavily on the settle. To her surprise she felt a firm, warm hand on her shoulder, “Chin up, Eleanor.”

She looked up into Artie’s taut, set face and managed to force numb lips into the semblance of a smile. His grip tightened and he managed a quick, curt nod.

“So what now?” Beth asked quietly.

“The Wanderer is stabled on this siding for the time being. I would suggest that we start our enquiries in Tohachi and go on from there.” Colonel Gonzalez smiled, “my network of ladies may have discovered some more information regarding Mr West’s whereabouts.”

Artemus nodded and Eleanor watched as he ran a broad hand through his dark hair, tousling it further, “I’ll go and get dressed.”

 

WWW

 

For Jim the ride seemed interminable. He looked up once at the horizon, but the sky seemed to shift and then twist as if made of celluloid. For a few moments he stared at it with dry-mouthed fascination; and then it began to change colour until it was a fiery crimson. Jim swallowed, the heavens seemed to be falling and all he could do was watch.

Squaring his shoulders against the foreboding firmament he resolutely held onto the reins and urged his mount forward. As the journey progressed he found that the sky itself seemed to be leaning on his shoulders and growing heavier by the minute. At one point he risked a glance upward; the sky was blue again, but it seemed as though he was riding through a sparkling archway, and he wondered if he was dying. _At least I’ll see Artie again_ the thought trickled through his brain, it was so beautiful, almost too beautiful. He lowered his gaze to the saddle, realising that he was gripping the pommel as if his life depended on it. He was again grateful that the horse he was riding seemed a gentle creature; a high-spirited stallion would have been out of the question.

 

It was a subdued group that road into Tohachi. Both Eleanor and Lupita dismounted and then Beth gave an audible gasp, Lupita looked up, “Madre de Dios! Jim!”

Artemus looked up, just as West raised his head, a slow smile curved the strong lips, “Artie,” he breathed, and then it was as if all his strength suddenly left him and he began to slide sideways. Artemus moved, and was just in time to catch him; although both of them ended up on the ground. Meanwhile Elizabeth slid down from the saddle and took her medical kit from the saddlebags. Hitching up her skirt, she knelt on the hard ground next to James West. Artie was cradling him as tenderly as a newborn. Jim’s eyes fluttered open, he reached up a shaking hand to touch Artie’s face, “I found you,” he said. “I went through the glowing arches into Heaven. But I _had_ to find you-”

Artie gripped his friend’s hand, fighting to hold back the tears, “It’s all right, Jim,” he murmured softly.

“Yes. I’m with you-” and then Jim’s eyes rolled back in his head and he was unconscious.

Beth looked across at Artie’s face, “He’ll be all right, love,” she said firmly. Quickly she examined the supine figure, her mouth tensing in a thin line as she did so. “Pulse racing, difficulty breathing, high fever. Jesus Christ!”

Artemus felt a small smile curve his lips at her expletive. “What now, honey?” He asked softly.

“I’ve got to get that fever down,” Beth looked up at him, “let’s get him into the hotel.”

“I’ll carry him,” Artemus replied firmly. With the ease of long practice he lifted the younger man into his arms and nodded to Beth, “lead the way, sweetheart.”

The proprietor looked shocked as they entered the establishment, but as soon as Colonel Gonzalez showed her credentials he was all smiles; escorting them to two rooms with a connecting door. He remained on the periphery of the group, wringing his hands until the Colonel ordered him to leave.

“Wait!” Eleanor spoke, “ask if they have the ice here.”

Beth looked up at her, a slight frown creasing her forehead, “Ice?”

“You need to get his temperature down – you can’t use normal therapies for his fever.”

“Ice.” Beth agreed. She turned to Colonel Gonzalez, “ice,” she repeated.

After an animated conversation lasting almost fifteen minutes Colonel Gonzalez cleared her throat and turned to them, “They do have ice, but it’ll cost.”

“Of course it will,” Eleanor replied dryly, “how much?”

Lupita spoke quickly with the owner and then turned to Eleanor, “He says $50 for the ice.”

“Tell him $20 American,” Eleanor responded, “and I’ll give him another $10 if he can get two blocks here in twenty minutes.”

The man’s eyes flicked to her and then he nodded and sped away. Lupita turned accusing brown eyes towards Eleanor, “You knew!”

“That he understood me? Yes. I surmised as much. Come on, you and I better go and fetch it.”

“I should like to come with you,” Artemus interjected.

“I think it would be better if you stayed,” Eleanor said gently, “if Jim wakes up he might settle better if you’re nearby.” Reluctantly Artemus nodded. The two women looked at one another and then they quietly left the room.

“Artie, sweetheart, I’m going to need your help. We need to strip Mr West.”

“Do you think he’s been injured?” Artie asked.

“We need to cool him down,” Beth responded, “hence the ice. Until that arrives, we’ll start by sponging him down.”

Ten minutes later, West was naked apart from his underpants and Beth was laying a cool flannel across his forehead when his eyes flickered and half opened, “Artie-” he croaked.

“I’m here, Jim,” Artemus perched on the edge of the bed and took his friend’s hand, feeling the heat radiating from West’s body.

“Glad I found you at long last,” a faint smile touched Jim’s lips, “I killed Sanchos, Pal-” his voice faded away and he was unconscious again.

On his other side, Beth carefully examined the unconscious man and swore. Artemus laughed, “Language, Elizabeth!”

She didn’t reply, merely reapplied the compresses. “What in Christ’s name did Dr Winterrich give him? If I had the good doctor here now-”

“You’d wring his neck like a chicken?” Artemus asked softly.

“Something like that,” Beth replied, “as slowly and painfully as I could.”

“Vicious young lady aren’t you,” Artemus regarded her tenderly.

“When my friends are made to suffer because of people like Winterrich, yes, I am.” She responded.

At that moment the door opened and Eleanor and Colonel Gonzalez entered carrying a quantity of chipped ice wrapped in cloth, they set about applying them to Jim’s arms and legs. Artemus took one of the packs and laid it against West’s neck, “We need to cool the blood getting into his brain,” he explained. “That fever could cause serious damage.”

Beth nodded, “Good thinking, Artie.”

 

_He was burning up. His skin was crackling, blistering; he had to get away. Forcing open his eyelids he stared around the room, where that insane doctor moved him to? He was so hot – struggling to sit up he saw the glass of water on the bedside table, the air seemed thick, like molasses. Trembling he reached for the glass; his fingers barely touching it before it slipped from his grasp and fell onto the floor, and he watched as the liquid was absorbed into the rug._

_The sound had obviously alerted someone because he felt a gentle hand on his arm and a familiar voice asked, “Jim?” He turned and saw the young woman sitting on the bed, her hand on his arm._

_“No, no,” he muttered, “you, you can’t be here – you’re just a hallucination.” Somehow, he never quite remembered how, he managed to scramble away from her. “Go-go away,” he muttered, “I won’t, I won’t-”_

_“Jim?” A soft voice interrupted._

_Painfully he turned his head, “Artie,” he breathed closing his eyes in relief, “good to see you, Pal.” He opened his eyes again, smiling up at his friend, “strange place for Heaven though. Always thought it would be brighter.”_

_“Are you thirsty?” Artie asked._

_Jim nodded, swallowing against the dryness in his throat, “Hot,” he muttered, “Burning up inside-”_

_Artemus swore again and then removing his boots climbed onto the bed behind Jim, “Beth, honey, give me the cup.”_

_Jim was cradled in his friend’s arms, something was being held to his lips and he drank gratefully. Then, despite the fire burning him from within, the relief of finding Artie again was overpowering and he sank back into darkness._

Jim only remembered those three days in terms of light and dark. Somehow he’d known Artie was there, and the thought comforted him. He partially regained consciousness to see Beth bending over his arm, attempting to insert a needle. Panic overwhelmed him and he attempted to pull his arm away, a whimper escaping from between his lips. The woman looked up and he caught sight of a pair of familiar blue eyes – although he couldn’t remember who they belonged to.

“Easy, Jim, easy,” a warm voice was speaking on his right side. Somehow, with the last of his strength Jim managed to turn his head to stare into the face of his partner. “Artie,” he breathed, “you’re still here-”

“I’m still here, Jim,” Artemus assured him, “go back to sleep now.”

Terror filled Jim’s eyes and he tried to struggle up, “The-the needle – drugs!” Artie’s warm hand on his bare shoulder pushed him back onto the bed.

“No drugs, Jim. It’s just a saline intravenous to get fluid into you.” A slight nod was the only response and then Jim’s eyes drooped and he was asleep.

Artemus laid a hand on West’s forehead, “I wish I knew how long it would take his fever to break,” he muttered.

“Hopefully less than a week,” Beth replied, “the intravenous should help flush out his system. He’ll probably still feel dreadful; but the worst of the drug’s effects will have passed.”

“The ice does seem to be helping,” Artie remarked.

“He’s certainly less restive,” Eleanor had just re-entered the room. “I’d so like to murder Dr Winterrich.”

“He isn’t worth the bullet,” Artemus replied. “Let him rot in a jail cell.”

“A Mexican jail cell,” Colonel Gonzalez interjected.

“Hmmm,” was Eleanor’s only response.

Beth leaned across to her friend and hugged her fiercely, “You know what the good book says, _Weeping may endure for a night_ -”

“ _But Joy cometh in the morning_.” Eleanor responded, she sighed, “it’s awful seeing him like this.”

“I know. But you picked him!” Beth responded.

“I rather think they picked one another,” Artemus replied, “good of you to come out of retirement for this, Ellie.”

Eleanor shrugged, “It was necessary. Although I may have some explaining to do when I get back to Angelvale.”

“You’ll have a story to tell,” Artemus replied thoughtfully.

Eleanor laughed, “I’m a simple, God-fearing woman in Angelvale. If I told anyone about this I’d never live it down.”

“So you’re good, God-fearing woman now?” He raised a dark eyebrow.

“God-fearing certainly,” Eleanor laughed, “but I’m not so sure about it ‘good’.”

“Well I’m glad you’re here,” Artemus replied.

Beth checked Jim’s pulse again and laid a hand on his forehead to check his temperature. “He seems a bit cooler; I think the ice is working.”

“That’s a start,” Artemus said, the relief evident in his voice.

“Si.” Colonel Gonzalez said softly, “but you think he will recover, Dr Mackenzie?”

Beth looked up, “I think so, yes. He is extraordinarily fit.”

“He is extraordinarily lucky,” Artemus replied.

“Indeed,” Lupita responded, regarding the two women sitting next to the bed, “he is very lucky.”

Despite his concerns Artemus insisted on taking Eleanor and Lupita across to the small restaurant for something to eat. Both ate sparingly, the concern evident in the taut line of their bodies. Eventually, realising that they were only picking at their food, Artemus laid his cutlery down on the tablecloth and rose to his feet; holding out a hand to Eleanor he smiled. “Let’s get back to the hotel,” he said quietly, “I think we’d all be happier there.”

“I am afraid I must leave you,” Colonel Gonzalez said she too stood up, “I must report to Colonel Vega.”

“You will come and say ‘goodbye’?” Eleanor asked.

“I will,” Lupita replied. “It has been a privilege working with _Richmond’s Girls._ Eleanor, Señor Gordon.”

“I know. I speak for Elizabeth also,” Eleanor replied, holding out her hand, “but I believe it was our privilege to work with _Benito’s Ladies_.”

When they were alone, Artemus held out his arm, “May I escort you back to the hotel, Ellie? You’re probably as concerned about Jim as I am.”

“Yeah. I suppose I am,” Eleanor sighed, “you know I love him, don’t you Artemus?”

“Yes, I know.” Artemus replied, “and I know he loves you.”

“So what do we do now?” Eleanor asked, “where do we go from here?”

“You take it a day at a time,” Artemus advised, “I _know_ he loves you – hell, you could see it in his face the last scrap we got into; but he needs time.”

“Is that your advice?” Eleanor enquired, regarding Artemus with clear green eyes.

“That’s my advice,” Artemus replied. When they entered the hotel room Beth was almost bubbling over with excitement. She almost wrenched Eleanor away from Artie and sat her in the chair next to the bed, “The fever’s broken!” She said gleefully, “and he opened his eyes! I think he recognised me!”

Eleanor closed her eyes; the wave of relief sweeping through her was so strong that had she not been sitting down, she was sure that she would have fainted. As it was, she took Jim’s hand and felt her nose hurt and tears prickling her eyelids. Artemus sat down on the other side of the bed, Beth was right. Jim’s body was slick with sweat; the fever had broken!

Jim stirred uneasily and Artie took his friend’s hand, hoping to reassure him. Jim forced open heavy eyelids and stared up into the face of his best friend, “Artie, he breathed. “Am I dead?”

“Not yet, love,” Eleanor said gently.

“But I saw you shot and killed-” Jim tried to struggle up but Artie’s warm hand on his shoulder sent him back onto the mattress with little effort.

“It wasn’t me.” Artemus said firmly, “it was a double created by Dr Winterrich.”

A slight shudder shook Jim’s frame as he remembered Winterrich and his experiments. “Are you sure we're not dead?” He frowned up at his friend.

Artemus laughed, and gestured with his free hand, somehow managing to take in the entire room, “Tell me, Buddy, does this look like Heaven to you?”

Jim squinted up at the ceiling and then shrugged, “Could be. Always thought Heaven would be shinier-ow!” Exasperated with his mumblings Artemus had reached over and pinched the skin on the back of Jim’s hand.

“See?” He said firmly, “if you were a spirit you wouldn’t feel any pain. Now go back to sleep.” Jim nodded, the relief on his face suddenly making him look young and vulnerable, just before he sank back into sleep he muttered, “Thanks, Artie.”

“It’s a pleasure,” Artie murmured softly, as Jim dropped into sleep. Artemus sighed and laying his friend’s hand on the coverlet closed his eyes in relief. Everything seemed to be catching up to him.

Beth laid a hand on his shoulder, “He’s going to be all right, Sweetheart.”

“I know,” Artie’s hand came up to cover Beth’s “but for a while there-”

“Go and get some rest,” Eleanor said kindly, “you look all in.”

“If you don’t mind I’ll go collapse in the other room. You’ll leave the door open?”

“Sure.” Beth gave his shoulder final squeeze.

“I suppose I should really give thanks first,” Artemus said absently. “The Lord is my strong defender; he is the one who saved me.”

“He is my God, and I will praise him, my father’s God, and I will sing about his greatness.” Eleanor continued.

“You never cease to amaze me, Ellie,” Artemus smiled.

“Good.” Eleanor replied, a grin curving her lips, “will that do as a hymn of praise?”

“It will indeed,” Artemus replied.

Eleanor nodded and gave Jim’s hand a final squeeze, “I’ve suddenly gone ravenous – I’m going to get some supper. Coming Beth?”

Beth nodded, “yes. I’ve got a bit hungry now. You’ll be all right here, Mr Gordon?” This last was to Artemus.

“I think so.” He looked up at the two women, “we owe you. Both of you.”

“It was just luck.” Eleanor replied.

 _Which Jim West has in abundance; and of which we never speak,_ Artemus thought. The women gave him two quick smiles and then he and Jim were alone. He laid his hand on his friend’s forehead and then he too quietly slipped into the next room. The women returned quietly, almost an hour later to find both men fast asleep.Elizabeth sat down on the chair next to the bed, and then slipping the stethoscope into her ears checked Jim's vitals. Twenty minutes later she folded her equipment and standing up came across to join Eleanor. “He’s all right.” She said, “now are you going to be all right?”

From somewhere within herself Eleanor dredged up the last of her strength and nodded, “Yes. I think so.”

Beth regarded her friend thoughtfully and then she said, “My God! You’re in love with him!”

A wan smile touched Eleanor’s lips, “Does it show?”

For an answer, Elizabeth took her friend’s hands and squeezed them warmly, “You can see it in your eyes, Ellie. Anyone with half a brain-”

“And I thought I was being so careful,” Eleanor sighed, “trust me to wear my heart on my sleeve-”

“For Daws to peck at? Beth enquired, raising a dark eyebrow.

“Don’t go quoting Shakespeare at me,” Eleanor scowled. “Let’s have that game of Hearts after all.”

A gentle hand on Artie's shoulder roused him. Blinking away the sleep he looked up at the young woman bending over him, “Morning love, Jim’s awake.”

“Be there in a minute.” Artemus promised. When he entered the second bedroom, Jim was sitting up in bed and Beth was just removing the intravenous apparatus from his arm.

“Morning, Buddy,” Artie took his friend’s hand, giving it a firm squeeze. Jim looked up at his friend, returning the grip.

“I think he’ll be all right,” Beth said, “although I would recommend that you rest for a couple of days.”

“Only if you sit on him,” Eleanor remarked dryly, walking across to the bed. She sat down on the bed itself and gently took Jim’s hand. “Morning love,” Eleanor bent to kiss Jim’s cheek, but nearly jumped a mile when he moved his head so that she was kissing his lips. Blushing, she almost reeled back and felt him squeeze her hand, “Jim you’re incorrigible.”

“Absolutely, sweetheart,” he smiled at her. Jim turned his attention to Elizabeth, “when can I go back to the train?”

“I would prefer you rest for the remainder of the day,” Beth responded. “But I think you will recover faster and better back at The Wanderer.”

“A lady after my own heart,” Artemus laughed.

“No. We just know you.” Eleanor replied dryly. “Both of you.”

Jim dressed slowly, tiredly. Beth was right; he really should spend another day in bed, but he couldn’t spend another day in Tohachi. He was white-faced and sweating when he came down the stairs and Artie had to surreptitiously put an arm out to steady him as he stepped outside. Artemus had had Blackjack brought from The Wanderer and was gratified to see the stallion whicker at Jim – but he was still concerned about his friend. In fact, getting back to the train was an effort, and Artie could see by the sheen of perspiration on his friend’s face, just how much it was taking out of him. As for Jim, how he managed to get on the running board of The Wanderer’s varnish car always remained a bit of a mystery. But then Artie’s arm was around his waist and he was escorting him to his cabin. The last thing he remembered with any clarity, was walking into his room before his legs went from under him and he sank into darkness.

Jim slept for the remainder of the day; he half awoke once or twice to find Artie or Beth and once even Eleanor sitting next to the bunk keeping an eye on him. When he woke later that day, it was to see Artemus asleep in the easy chair next to the bed. For a long moment he lay watching his friend sleep, content just to revel in the moment. Artie stirred and opened his eyes, they regarded one another for a long moment and then Artie smiled, “At last! I thought you were going to sleep forever, James-my-boy!”

Jim managed a wry grin at his friend, “What time is it?”

Artie took the watch out of his waistcoat pocket and regarded it for a couple of minutes, “About five o’clock in the afternoon.” He regarded his friend indulgently, “want to get up? The ladies will be glad to see you.”

Jim’s eyes widened, “Then I wasn’t dreaming?”

Artemus shook his head, “No you weren’t. I’ll go and tell them you’re awake.”

When Jim came through to the varnish car, Eleanor and Beth were playing a game of pool; although neither seemed to be playing with much enthusiasm. “Who taught you to play?” He asked.

“Jim!” Eleanor almost dropped her cue, “how you feeling, Sweetheart?”

“Better, thanks,” Jim replied, he walked across the carriage and took in his arms “what do I say, Ellie?”

“Elizabeth did most of the work,” Eleanor replied, “I was just the support act.”

“We both remain grateful,” Jim replied, “always.” He pulled her closer and gently kissed her lips. Eleanor returned the kiss fervently, eventually disentangling herself.

“I wonder what happened to Dr Winterrich?” Jim asked.

“I don’t know,” Eleanor responded, “but I’d like to gut him with a spoon!”

Jim looked slightly taken aback and opened his mouth to reply when there was a knock on the door, Artemus went to open it and standing framed in the doorway stood Colonel Gonzalez, “may I come in?” She enquired.

“Please,” Artemus stepped aside and allow the other room to enter, “you look as if you have some news.”

“Dr Winterrich is dead,” Colonel Gonzalez said softly.

“What happened?” Eleanor asked shakily.

“We discovered that Señor Galiano also had a small abode fifty miles from his main Hacienda. Dr Winterrich took Mr West there – and that’s where we found them.”

“Them?” Artemus frowned.

“Dr Winterrich and another man. Dr Winterrich was killed with the bullet to the heart; the second man had also been badly injured, we think he killed Dr Winterrich and then died himself from the blood loss.”

“I wonder if it has something to do the horse I stole,” Jim said slowly.

Beth frowned and turned to face him, “What do you mean?”

Jim frowned, “When Dr Winterrich’s servant came to bring my food I pretended to be more affected by the drug than I actually was – so when he’d unshackled my wrists and ankles I shot him. I thought I’d killed him –I managed to get out of the building and that’s when I saw the mare. I had to get back here-”

“We think that the man who was tending you came in on that horse,” Lupita said, “we think that he thought Dr Winterrich had hidden the animal so that he’d be forced to remain with him. He probably shot the doctor and then died himself. Case closed.”

“It would have been nice to bring Winterrich to justice.” Eleanor said, somewhat ruefully, “I’d have enjoyed seeing him dance a minuet from the highest gallows I could find.”

“I never thought you were one for revenge, Ellie, love,” Jim said quietly.

“It wouldn’t be revenge.”  Eleanor replied, “it would be Justice.”

Artemus raised an eyebrow, “Vicious young lady aren’t you?”

Eleanor surveyed him quietly, “Absolutely.”

Jim’s arm tightened on Eleanor’s waist, “That’s my girl.”

Beth checked her watch and looked up at Eleanor, “We ought to get going, Ellie.”

“Can you stay for supper?” Artemus asked.

Eleanor looked across at Beth and something passed between them then Beth nodded, “All right, Ellie. We’ll stay.”

Jim took Eleanor’s hand and drew her across to the settle, “Are you sure you’re all right?” She asked softly.

Jim nodded, “Yeah. I will be.”

Eleanor didn’t respond, knowing that anything she said would seem insensitive and that she would be spouting platitudes. She squeezed his hand and said, “I’d recommend a bottle of Bourbon and a long talk with your partner.”

Jim looked up, “You think?”

“I do,” she smiled, “but not with Beth or I here. Give yourself time, Sweetheart.”

“Dinner is served,” Artemus announced as he walked into the carriage, a large tray in his arms. “I thought as you both have a long journey to make, a robust beef stew was in order.”

“Oh Artie,” Eleanor exclaimed, “that’s wonderful!”

“It’s my pleasure, Ellie,” Artemus replied.

It was early evening when both women left. Jim held Eleanor for the longest time at the door to the varnish car. She laid gloved hand against his cheek, “Are you sure you’ll be all right?”

Sea-green eyes looked down into Eleanor’s grass green ones, “I will be. Can I come and see you on the next leave?”

“Always,” Eleanor replied and felt him pull her closer to kiss her fiercely. Eventually, he released her and said so softly that only she could hear, “see you soon, love.”

Eleanor was quiet on the return to their hotel, “Are you all right, Ellie?” Beth asked, once back in their rooms.

“Just worried about Jim. This whole affair has been a nightmare for him.”

“I know, sweetie, I know,” Beth sighed, “but Artemus is with him – he will help Jim through the worst of it.”

“Yes,” Eleanor agreed, “but I can still worry.”

Beth stood up and laid a warm hand on her friend shoulder, “I know. But he’ll be all right – they both will.”

 

At first Jim thought he’d recovered, and then a few days after the incident at Fort Challenge the nightmares began. They always started the same way, he and Artie entered the hotel in Tohachi and then Artemus was shot – but this time it wasn’t the double, it was the real Artemus Gordon. He’d woken up sweating and shaking, thankfully the first time, Artie had gone into town to purchase supplies so he didn’t know. Getting up, Jim went across to the basin and splashed water on his face. Drying it he walked through to the stable car. Blackjack whickered at him and he stroked the stallion’s nose; reaching up to pet the animal’s cheek. He heard Artie return and giving his horse a final pat he walked back into the varnish car. Artie smiled at him over the top of his bags, “I thought you’d still be asleep, Jim.”

“A man can only sleep so long Artie,” Jim replied. He sat down on the settee, unconsciously lifting his right hand to rub his temples.

“I’ll start preparing supper,” Artemus replied, trying to keep the concern from his voice.

“Great,” Jim muttered absently. He tried to keep up the pretence of everything being all right – and he thought he’d succeeded, even managing to smile at his friend’s witticisms. Finally, realising that he was still tired he went to bed. Sleep came more easily than he expected, but it wasn’t restful. He was climbing those damn stairs again; hearing the shot, hearing Artie fall and still being utterly helpless to stop what was happening. A warm hand on his shoulder and a quiet voice in his ear, “Jim?” And he jerked into wakefulness to find Artemus bending over him, concern etched on his face.

Sitting up, he managed a wry smile at Artemus, “sorry, Pal.” He said, “bad dreams.”

Artemus gave him a solemn look, but merely gave his friend’s shoulder a firm, warm squeeze and then Jim was alone.

Artemus was worried about his friend. Like many men who’d served in Civil War, Jim tended to keep everything inside – to try and cope with it himself. Artie didn’t want to press him, but he knew that this whole affair had left Jim reeling. His friend’s latest nightmare – and he wondered if this was the first or if there had been others that he hadn’t been aware of – was only the symptom of a larger problem. Sighing, he walked through to the galley and began making preparations for lunch.

When Jim came through he looked marginally better, Artie smiled at him, trying not to let the concern for his friend show, “Lunch is almost ready, Buddy, come and sit down.”

Jim nodded again and eased himself into the chair. With the ease of long practice Artemus served them both and then with a flourish of his napkin, sat down himself. Jim ate sparingly, aware of Artie’s presence next to him. “Where to next, Artie?”

“Nothing’s come through on the telegraph yet,” Artie replied quietly.

Jim nodded slowly, “Think they might give you some leave? I could certainly use it.”

 _I know you could, Buddy,_ Artemus thought. He watched as Jim ate slowly; and then afterwards as he moved around the carriage, and wasn’t surprised when his friend made a final excuse and slipped off the bed.

It was the shouting that woke him. I unhesitatingly Artemus immediately went to his friend’s cabin and then stopped outside the door. _Should he go in? He’d already woken Jim once, and although his friend hadn’t spoken of it, Artemus knew that these nightmares were disturbing him._ There was a sudden curse and he realised Jim was awake. Sighing softly to himself Artemus padded noiselessly down the corridor.

The following week became torturous for both men. The nightmares became so bad that Jim feared going to sleep. He would wait in his cabin until Artemus had gone to bed and then he would get up and lighting a lamp work at his desk. For almost five mornings Artemus discovered his friend asleep on the desk in the varnish car. Usually he would rouse his friend by giving his shoulder a gentle squeeze, and Jim would prise open bleary eyes to stare at his friend. He would manage a weary smile at Artemus and then ask for a cup of coffee. Artie had sighed and giving Jim’s shoulder another firm squeeze, he’d gone to prepare breakfast. On the fifth morning that Artemus had discovered his friend he’d finally persuaded Jim to take a mild sedative and helped him to his cabin, once settled Artemus sat down at the desk and began telegraphing a message to Washington DC. When Jim came through to the varnish car almost two hours later the telegraph machine was chattering and Artie was busily scribbling. He sat staring at the message for almost two minutes, finally Jim cleared his throat and managed a faint smile at his friend, “Why so morose, Artie?”

“This.” Artie held that the message and returned his friend’s smile, “I’ve been reassigned to Washington DC. You are being ordered to take a furlough.”

Jim stared at him, a mixture of fury and resentment flashing across his face, “well telegraph a message back to say I don’t need a furlough!”

“Yes you do, Jim,” Artemus said quietly. “These nightmares you’re having; you’re barely sleeping – you need time to assimilate everything that’s happened. I agree with the Colonel, you need a break. My orders are to drop you off in San Francisco. I’ll go on to Washington and then send the train back for you.”

For a moment, Jim’s anger threatened to overwhelm him, and then, realising that would do no good he’d merely nodded, tight-lipped and furious and returned to his cabin to pack.

 

** Epilogue **

 

West scowled as he walked into the bar. Despite his protestations Artemus had insisted he take some leave to think things through. He tried to insist that he didn’t need to think things through – that he was perfectly fit. Artemus had given him a long look and Jim had subsided into a sulky silence. Now as he took his beer and went to sit on one of the tables he reflected that Artie might have been right. Taking a sip of his beer he set the glass down on the table and looked up; straight into the astonished eyes of Eleanor Talbot. “Jim! What are you doing here?”

A wry smile touched his lips, “Been ordered to take a furlough. Colonel Richmond himself.” He took another sip of his beer.

“Me too,” Eleanor smiled, “my uncle felt I needed a holiday. Lord knows why.”

“Mine was forced upon me,” Jim couldn’t quite keep the bitterness from his voice.

Somehow, Eleanor realised something was wrong, “May I sit down?” She asked gently.

Jim waved his free hand at the chair opposite and gracefully, Eleanor eased herself into it. “I haven’t seen you since the incident at Fort Challenge,” she began hesitantly. “That was two weeks ago. Is Artemus around?”

“Artie’s been reassigned to Washington DC,” West responded, “and I’m here.”

Eleanor laid a gloved hand on his and felt the slight shudder run through his body, “Are you sure you’re all right?”

From somewhere Jim managed to dredge up the semblance of a smile, “I’ll be fine.”

Eleanor regarded him quietly and then she said, “Have you eaten?” When Jim shook his head she laid her hand on his again and said firmly, “then once you finish your drink we’ll go to dinner.”

“I doubt I’ll be good company,” he protested.

“That doesn’t matter,” she shook her head.

“All right,” he swallowed the last of his ale and picking up his hat rose to his feet. Eleanor did the same, and to her surprise, Jim offered her his arm.

 _Still the epitome of courtesy,_ she thought, _even when he’s going through Hell._ Once in the restaurant Eleanor noticed that Jim seemed to relax slightly, although there was still a tenseness in his body and she could see the fine lines of stress at the corners of his eyes.

When they’d finished and had been served Eleanor asked gently, “Jim, what’s wrong?”

A small smile touched his lips, “I haven’t been sleeping very well.”

“Bad dreams?” Eleanor asked quietly.

Jim closed his eyes and Eleanor saw his lips compress in a thin line. She laid her hand on his, shocked his eyes flew open, “I think we need to talk.” She said softly, “but not here.”

“My hotel room?” Jim asked, a faint smile lighting the pale face.

“No, I don’t think so.” Eleanor gave his hand a firm squeeze. “Shall we go?”

Whether it was the fact that he no longer had to pretend everything was all right; or that Eleanor had taken charge, Jim didn’t know, but he suddenly felt a wave of weariness wash over him and it was all he could do to stay upright. Eleanor helped him into the hansom outside the restaurant and then spoke quietly to the driver. Jim opened his eyes as she settled herself next to him, “where are we going?”

“I have friends-” Eleanor began.

“In low places?” A small smile touched Jim’s mouth and she only just resisted the urge to lean forward and kiss it.

“In many places,” she responded, “we are going to Colonel Gardner’s. He is a friend of Colonel Richmond.”

“And of you?” Jim enquired.

“And of us,” Eleanor confirmed.

“Won’t he be somewhat put out by our arrival?” Jim asked.

“I doubt it,” Eleanor replied, Jim eyed her thoughtfully, he was too tired to dispute the statement, suddenly weary he leant back against the squabs and closed his eyes.

Someone was gently, but firmly shaking him, peeling open his eyelids he found himself staring up into the face of a bearded middle-aged man, “Major West?” He queried, and when Jim didn’t react he continued, “I’m Colonel Gardner. You look exhausted, young man.” Then other hands were helping Jim out of the cab and into the house.

“Let me,” a soft familiar voice said and a gentle arm was around his waist and he looked down into the bright green eyes of Eleanor Talbot.

“You – you stayed-” he slurred, fighting to keep his eyes open.

“Let’s just get you to bed, Jim,” Eleanor said firmly. They were met at the top of the stairs by a tall, grey-haired gentleman, “I can see to Major West now, Miss Eleanor.” The man said.

Eleanor smiled, “Thank you, Sexton.” She watched as Colonel Gardner’s valet took Jim’s weight and practically carried him into the bedroom.

Eleanor turned and slipped downstairs to the entrance hall with Colonel Gardner was waiting for her, “What brings my favourite goddaughter all the way to San Francisco?” He asked.

“An hour ago I would have told you that my uncle had treated me to an all expenses holiday in this amazing city; but now-” she glanced up the stairs, “I’m beginning to wonder.”

“The young man with you – Major West – what’s happened to him?”

“He’s not well,” Eleanor explained, “he’s had a bad time in the last ten days, and I’m not sure how to help him.”

“If anyone can reach him it will be you, Eleanor. Will you be joining him?”

A faint blush crept up Eleanor’s cheeks and she nodded. Colonel Gardner smiled, “Then come and have a nightcap with me and you can fill me on all your news.”

Ninety minutes later, Eleanor crept quietly into Jim’s bedroom and sat down on the edge of the bed. Her left leg was beginning to ache; sighing she lifted her nightdress and began to remove her calliper. Lifting the covers she slid into bed. Sleep did not come easily but eventually she slid into a fitful slumber.

Someone was whimpering, as she struggled up through the folds of sleep she began to hear words, “Artie. No-no, God no. Artie-” the words were cut off by a sob; peeling back tired eyelids she turned to see James West lost in the throes of a nightmare.

Laying a hand on his cheek she spoke firmly, “Jim? Jim, wake up, it’s a dream, it’s a dream.” A gasp and a shudder, and he was awake, for a long moment he stared at her and then wrapping his arms around her waist he rested his head on her shoulder and wept as though his heart was breaking. Eventually he raised his head and stared into her face, “How long have you been having these dreams, Sweetheart?” She asked softly.

A rueful smile touched his lips and he closed his eyes, Eleanor watched him, waiting, then they opened again and he admitted, “About a day after you left.”

“Oh Jim,” Eleanor stroked his cheek, “why didn’t you tell anyone?”

A sharp bark of laughter made her jump, “I thought they’d go away. I’ve had dreams like that before – after a few nights they dwindle away and I can put them aside.”

Snuggling closer she said softly, “Tell me about them.”

Slowly, haltingly he began to speak, how each dream began differently, but each time Artemus – and it was always _his_ Artemus – was killed in front of him. Swallowing hard he said, “I _know_ they’re not real; I _know_ Artie’s alive. But the dreams won’t stop.”

Eleanor stroked the skin beside his eyebrow, “Perhaps the nightmares are your subconscious trying to remind you that you need time to assimilate everything.”

“I thought I had,” he complained.

“Jim, you discovered Armando Galiano was the head of the Pistoleros and the man ultimately responsible for what you thought was the death of your partner – then Dr Winterrich decided he’d experiment on you – I don’t wonder you’re having bad dreams.”

“But how do I make them stop?” It was an angry, petulant response.

“Can you come to terms with the fact that you’re mortal?” Eleanor asked gently, “I know you like to give the impression that you’re superhuman; but you’re not.”

“That’s true.” Jim sighed and closed his eyes, “maybe my ‘subconscious’ is just giving me a gentle nudge.”

“More like thumping you over the head with a lump hammer,” Eleanor replied dryly.

Jim yawned, “Maybe,” he blinked tiredly, “think we can go back to sleep now?”

“Think you can?” Eleanor asked quietly.

“Yes. I think so.” Jim’s eyes were closed. “Is that all right, Sweetheart.”

Eleanor regarded him quietly, “Go ahead, Sweetheart. I’ll still be here.”

“Mmmm, nice.” Jim took a deep breath and let it out on a soft sigh. Eleanor cuddled closer, thinking he’d dropped off and then he spoke again, “Eleanor, tomorrow morning, would you marry me?”

She looked up at Jim’s face and saw that his eyes were open again, “Jim, you don’t have to marry me out of pity – or because we shared a bed-”

He shook his head, “I’m not asking out of pity, Ellie. I’ve wanted to ask you for the longest time – but the right moment never seemed to reveal itself.”

“It doesn’t,” Eleanor looked into his eyes, they seemed very dark in the early morning light. “You have to _make_ the right moment.”

“Then I’m making it now,” Jim replied, “and asking you to be my wife. Will you?”

“Yes,” Eleanor replied simply.

Jim’s embrace tightened and he bent forward to kiss her, gently at first, but as the kiss deepened Eleanor felt the familiar tightening in her groin and a soft mew emerged from her mouth. Gently Jim broke away from her and then, still cradling her face in his hands he said, “Eleanor if I don’t stop now I’m afraid I won’t be responsible for the consequences.”

Eleanor swallowed the retort that she didn’t mind consequences, and managed a quick nod.  Jim laughed softly and bent to kiss her lips, more gently this time. “It’s still early, I’m going back to sleep.” He said drowsily.

Eleanor laid a hand on his chest and replied, “Go ahead, Sweetheart.” He yawned and then his eyes drooped and he was asleep again. She watched him for a couple of moments and then snuggling closer, let her eyelids fall shut. Jim awoke slowly, and for a couple of moments couldn’t quite remember where he was; his arm was wrapped round someone’s midriff, the first thing he realised was that he was snuggled up to Eleanor and the second was that the dream hadn’t plagued him and that he’d actually slept properly for what felt like the first time in forever. The woman in his arms stirred and turned over, “Morning, Jim,” she yawned.

“Morning, Sweetheart,” Jim said, gently stroking the hair back from her face. “Sleep well?”

“Yes. I think so.” Eleanor replied, “you?”

“Better than I have in ages.” Jim replied, “what about last night?”

“Yes?” She raised an eyebrow.

“I’m asking again. Eleanor Talbot, will you do me the honour of being my wife?” Jim asked slowly.

“I will,” she replied, “but I don’t want to force you.”

“You haven’t,” Jim replied, “I’ve been thinking about asking you for the longest time. I just hoped to make it more of an occasion – you know dinner, dancing, a show-”

“Wherever you are is perfect for me,” Eleanor responded.

“We’d better get up,” Jim said, “if I’m going to make you my wife by the end of the day.”

Colonel Gardner was sitting reading the paper when they entered the dining room. He looked up and a broad smile appeared below his moustache, “Good morning! Did you sleep well?”

Jim nodded, “I did, Sir. Better than I have for a week.” He pulled a chair out for Eleanor but didn’t sit down himself, concerned Eleanor looked up, Jim cleared his throat, “Colonel Gardner, as you are the only member of Eleanor’s family resident in the city I should like to formally ask for Eleanor’s hand in marriage.”

For a moment, Ellie thought that her Godfather would refuse, but then he put down his newspaper and regarded Eleanor studiously. “Is this what you want Eleanor, my dear? Do you understand who you’ll be taking on?”

She looked up at the man standing next to her chair, resplendent in the teal suit and gold waistcoat, and clearing her throat replied, “Yes, Uncle Robert, I do.”

“Then may I wish you all the joy in the world.” He responded. “You have my blessing Mr West, now you’d better get off. There’s a jewellers on Main Street and I’ll meet you at Judge Abernathy’s at 12:30 precisely.”

“Thank you, Sir,” West tipped his hat and offered Eleanor his arm. Grabbing a roll with her other hand she linked her arm through his. Choosing the ring was fairly simple and by 11:45 they were walking towards the Judge’s the item tucked safely in Jim’s pocket. He bought them a hotdog apiece as they walked up Main Street and Eleanor noticed that he looked downcast, “Are you all right?”

“I just wish Artie was here,” he replied, “I wanted him to stand up and be my best man.”

Eleanor laid a hand on his arm, “Then we shouldn’t marry if he can’t be here.”  She smiled, “will you feel the same way about me in three days time?”

Jim regarded her thoughtfully, “Most definitely, nothing will change that.”

“Then we telegraph Artemus right now, and he _will_ be your Best Man.”

“Are  you sure,” Jim regarded her thoughtfully.

“Yes,” Eleanor replied, “it would not fair.  To him or to you.”

Tucking her small hand into his elbow, Jim gave his fiancée a wry smile, “We’d better go and explain things to your godfather and the judge.”

“We may have to move to separate rooms,” Eleanor sighed.

“The way I feel about you, love, that may not be such a bad thing.” Jim replied, he looked down at the young woman next to him, “let’s go and explain.”

Surprisingly, both Judge Abernathy and Colonel Gardner were very understanding when they explained their circumstances.  Colonel Gardner offered to take Eleanor back to his house while Jim sent the telegram. 

“How long will it take Mr Gordon to arrive?” Eleanor asked.

“Ellie, sweetheart, he’ll go AWOL to stand at my wedding.” Jim assured her.

“Yes, I think he might at that,” Eleanor replied.  She looked up at her godfather, and when they were alone spoke, “Uncle Robert, I think I can take steps to ensure Mr Gordon’s attendance.”

Colonel Gardner eyed her thoughtfully, “How would you do that?”

“Send a telegram to Uncle Ulysses myself,” Eleanor replied, she looked up at her godfather, “we met some years ago.”

“Think he’ll remember you?” Robert Gardner eyed his goddaughter warily.

“I think so,” Eleanor replied, her eyes far away.  “We go back a long ways, Uncle Robert.”

“We’ll wait for Major West to leave and then you can slip in and send your telegram.”

Eleanor grinned up at her godfather, “Thanks.”

“Just out of interest, what are you going to write?”  Colonel Gardner queried.

“The truth.” Eleanor replied quietly, “that I’ve met the man of my dreams; he’s asked me to marry him and could he give Mr Gordon a few days holiday so that he could be his friend’s Best Man – without telling him about my telegram.”

“How do you think he’ll react?”

“I hope with congratulations,” Eleanor replied.  “But either way, as long as he allows Mr Gordon to take a few days holiday, I don’t particularly care.”

“You’re a cool one, Ellie.” Colonel Gardner said admiringly.

“I have learnt how to be, Uncle Robert,” Eleanor replied thoughtfully.

They secreted themselves in a restaurant across the street and Colonel Gardner bought her a sarsaparilla and himself a beer and they watched the telegraph office.  Jim emerged after approximately fifteen minutes, a tense look on his face.

“I’d say by that expression that things did not go according to plan.”  Colonel Gardner remarked.  “Finish your drink and we’ll get across to the Telegraph Office.”

Eleanor wrote a quick, terse telegram, asking briefly after President Grant’s health and requesting that he allow Artemus Gordon to take a few days leave so that he could be Jim West’s Best Man.”  Her godfather had left instructions for any answer to be delivered to his house.  Taking their leave, they began walking back along the street.  “I hope that Jim’s all right,” Eleanor remarked thoughtfully.

“I think, if I know Mr Gordon,” her godfather replied, “he probably felt he had to refuse on principle.  Why do you think he’ll come when President Grant says so?”

“Because _I_ asked, and because he’ll order him to.” Eleanor replied. 

“One day you’re going to tell me exactly how you know all these people.” Her godfather replied.

“The unpleasantness between the States, mainly,” Eleanor replied, “it was the beginning of _Richmond’s Girls_ , although we didn’t have a formal name then.  Elizabeth served in the military, Hannah and I took messages across the lines. I’m not sure about any of our other members.”

“Ye gods!” Colonel Gardner spat, “how old were you?”

“Fifteen when I began,” Eleanor replied, “and just twenty when it finished. Found I had an aptitude for it, people are often so wrapped up in their own lives, they don’t see what’s in front of them. I found that if I left a wheelchair with friends just outside the city, I could change into a boring grey dress seat myself in the wheelchair and have a young man or a young woman push me through the streets. Once or twice we were stopped by soldiers, Confederate and Union, I’ve had Confederate Soldiers remove my shoes to check that I really do have a disability.” She gave her godfather a wry grin, “what they didn’t realise was that the documents they wanted, especially for the Confederate Army, were actually in my dress. So this young man or woman would wheel me through the city, and then they’d fetch my horse which had been taken through the city via a circuitous route; I’d change, then remount and continue on my way. I don’t believe they ever realised how they’ve been duped.” She sighed, “I am proud of the work I did. I am proud of the organisation that began during those years.”

“I have always been proud of you, Eleanor.” Colonel Gardner said, “and of all of you. I would not have opened my house to you if I did not feel that way. You have more supporters than you know.”

“I know that,” Eleanor replied, “I have always known that. Things changed for me about two and a half years ago – when James West collapsed in my arms. Afterwards things were never the same.”

“So I understand.” Colonel Gardner smiled down at her, “Colonel Richmond has kept me apprised of your progress my dear. He was concerned about your involvement in this dangerous world.”

Emma felt a hot blush sweep up her face, and she had to look away suddenly embarrassed. “So you knew about me and Mr West?”

“I knew that you cared about one another,” he replied, “but I also knew that Major West was an honourable man and that if he truly loved you it would have to be marriage or nothing.”

“I am undone,” Eleanor sighed, “does everyone know?”

“I suspect that some of your friends who form part of _Richmond’s Girls_ know, and Colonel Richmond has suspected for a while.  But it is not common knowledge, and those people that do know, know to keep their own counsel.”

“All right,” Eleanor sighed, “I’ll just have to take your word for it for now. Shall we go home?”

Colonel Gardner offered her his arm, and sliding her hand into the crook of his arm, Eleanor smiled up at him and together they walked down the street.  They were sitting taking tea in the drawing room when Jim returned thirty minutes later.  Eleanor took one look at his face and was almost instantly on her feet, “Jim! What’s wrong?”

He sank into one of the chairs and ran a hand across his face, “I don’t think Artie can make it,” he said.  “He said he was really pleased for me, but that he wasn’t sure he could take the time off.”

“You never know,” Eleanor said, trying to sound hopeful, “the President values you both highly, he might make an exception.”

“Just for one man?” Jim looked scornful, “I wouldn’t expect it, nor would I ask him to.”

Eleanor nodded, she swallowed back tears and said, “Would you like a cup of tea?”

“That would be nice,” Jim managed a taut smile and it took all of Eleanor’s self-control not to take him in her arms and kiss the pain away.  She poured another cup of tea, willing her hand not to shake, and for the most part succeeded.  She handed him the cup, and for an instant their eyes met.  “It could just be you and I,” he mused, “I had such hopes-”

Colonel Gardner laid a hand on the younger man’s shoulder and gave it a reassuring squeeze, “All may not yet be lost,” he said firmly.

At that moment they heard the loud knocking on the door, Eleanor looked across at Colonel Gardner, “Expecting anyone?” she inquired, raising an auburn eyebrow.

“Perhaps,” he replied, “I’ll go and see who’s at the door.”

When he returned, he was carrying two envelopes, he handed one to Eleanor and then he said, “This second one is yours, Major West.”

“I was only a Major for a month, Colonel,” Jim replied, taking the envelope.  He unfolded the missive and stared at the contents, meanwhile Eleanor opened the second one.  He looked up at Jim, “Good news?”

“President Grant seems to have heard about my upcoming matrimonials,” Jim replied, “he’s practically ordered Artemus to take some leave to be my Best Man.” He looked up at Colonel Gardner, “you haven’t forced President Grant to do something he didn’t want to do, have you?”

“I couldn’t make our President do anything he didn’t want to,” Colonel Gardner replied, “I merely telegraphed him to let him know that one of his best agents was getting married.  It was his decision to release Mr Gordon.”

Eleanor bit her lower lip, “Better news, Jim?”

“Much better, Sweetheart,” Jim replied. 

“When’s he arriving?” Eleanor asked.

“Two days,” Jim replied, “I still can’t believe it.  Are you sure neither of you had anything to do with this?”

“Us?” Eleanor feigned innocence, “how could either of us influence the President?”

“It’s still unbelievable,” Jim frowned.

“Maybe you just deserve a little luck,” Colonel Gardner replied.  At that moment there was a knock on the door.  “Enter!” the Colonel ordered.

The door opened and a tall grey-haired man walked in, “Colonel, Major, Miss Talbot, dinner is served.”

Jim rose to his feet and held out his hand, “Eleanor, sweetheart. Shall we go into dinner?”

“Yes, darling,” she replied, rising to her feet and taking his hand.

They had been served the first course when Colonel Gardner cleared his throat, “I have moved you into a separate room, Major.”

“I think that’s an excellent idea,” Jim replied, he smiled at her, “Eleanor, are you all right with this?”

“Yes, Jim.” Eleanor grinned, “I think it’s a very good idea.”

He escorted her up the stairs and then at her bedroom door, chastely kissed her lips.  “I’ll say goodnight, love.”

“Will you be able to sleep?” She asked.

“Yeah, I think so.” Jim grinned.  “sleep well, honey.”

“Goodnight, sweetheart.” 

The following day was fairly relaxed.  When Eleanor came downstairs it was to see both men sitting at the breakfast table.  “I think I overslept,” she complained when she saw them.

“We thought we’d let you sleep,” her godfather explained, “any plans today?”

“I have a bit of shopping to do,” Eleanor replied, “I thought I would get two or three books, and maybe a skirt.”

“For our wedding?” Jim enquired.

“I have a dress that will do as a wedding dress,” Eleanor responded.  “And I would marry you in a shift, if I had to, Jim.”

“I don’t think that’s necessary,” her godfather laughed, “we’ll go and pick some books together, all right?”

“That’d be great, Uncle Robert,” Eleanor laughed, “but I have to be a bit careful how much I spend.”

“That’ll be great,” her godfather replied. 

“What will you do?” Eleanor turned to her fiancé.

“Get a telegram back to Artie and President Grant.  I ought to acknowledge his gesture and ask Artie when he plans to arrive here in San Francisco.”

“When you know let me know and I’ll rearrange that appointment with Judge Abernathy.”

“I’d be much obliged,” Jim stood up and smiled at Eleanor.  “See you later, sweetheart.”

“See you later, love.”  Eleanor replied, she watched as Jim put his hat on and quietly left the room. 

Eleanor and her godfather were perusing the bookstore when Jim entered.  He slipped an arm around her and said, “Have you bought the bookstore yet?”

“Thinking about it,” Eleanor admitted.  “But I shall pace myself and only buy three.”

“That’s my girl,” Jim laughed, “I came to ask if you wanted to go to dinner tonight?”

“That would be delightful.  Any news about Mr Gordon?”

“He’s arriving tomorrow evening.  Can you put another person up Colonel?”

“Certainly, Mr West.  So you’ll marry on Tuesday?”

“I think so,” Jim replied, “Eleanor, sweetheart, can I escort you home?”

“I’d be delighted, Jim,” she responded.

She dressed carefully that evening.  She’d left an evening gown at her godfather’s.  Not with any real expectation of being able to wear it.  But when she’d realised that her career working for the Government was over and she’d moved to Angelvale it had seemed frivolous to pack an evening gown.   Her godfather had sent up one of the maids and Eleanor had watched as the young woman filled a bath.  Gratefully, she peeled off her day dress and climbed into the bath.  The young woman smiled tentatively at her, “Do you want me to wash your hair, Miss?”

“That would be wonderful,” Eleanor smiled at her, “what’s your name?”

“Sara, Miss.”

“Would you pass me the soap please, Sara,” Eleanor half turned and smiled up at the young woman.  She bathed and scrabbling in the wardrobe, pulled out a black and white silk evening dress.  Scowling she dressed and allowed Sara to button her up, “You look lovely, Miss.”  The young woman said as she regarded Eleanor.

“I haven’t dressed up like this for years,” Eleanor replied.

There was a soft knocking and her godfather poked his head around the door, “Ellie, Mr West is waiting downstairs.  Are you ready?”

“As I’ll ever be,” she replied, picking up her reticule.  As she reached the top of the stairs she looked down to see Jim gazing at her, adoration in the green eyes, and was suddenly glad she’d changed.  Jim had changed from what Eleanor always called his ‘work clothes’ into a full swallowtail tuxedo.   As she reached him he took one of her black gloved hands and bent to kiss her knuckles, “You look amazing.”

To her embarrassment, Eleanor flushed again and managed to stutter, “So do you.”  Jim laughed and sliding an arm around her waist pulled her towards him for a gentle kiss.  “Shall we go to dinner?”

“That would be wonderful,” she replied. Eleanor wasn’t aware of the restaurant, although she was fairly sure that it was one of Jim’s regular haunts – she noticed that most of the waiters seemed to know him, although she kept her thoughts to herself.  Eleanor was settling herself into her seat when Jim spoke, “Tell me, Eleanor, did you have something to do with Artie being allowed to take some leave?”

Eleanor looked up, meaning to deny everything, but one look into Jim’s clear green eyes, made her voice die in her throat and she nodded.  Finally finding her voice she said, “I asked the President to release Mr Gordon.  I knew how much it meant to you to have him stand up with you when you got married.”

“I didn’t expect it,” Jim replied, “does Artie know?”

“I asked the President not to tell him.  Just to say that he’d heard that one of his best Secret Service Agents was getting married and ordering Mr Gordon to take some leave.  Do you think he should know?”

“We have very few secrets from one another,” Jim replied.

“It’s what makes you such a good team,” Eleanor replied, “that much I know.  I leave it up to you, Jim.”

“I’ll think about it,” Jim replied, taking a sip of his wine, “you are many things, sweetheart, brilliant, brave, beautiful-”

“Can you add bonkers and batty to that list,” Eleanor replied, ruefully, “I shouldn’t have interfered.”

“Ah no, love,” Jim replied, “Artie had already wired his congratulations but made it clear that he couldn’t take any vacation time when he’d just started a new job.  So your intervention was timely.”

“If a little crazy,” Eleanor admitted, “rather a circuitous route, you have to admit.”

“Perhaps you could have asked,” Jim replied, he laid his hand on hers and squeezed it reassuringly, “but you always were impulsive.”

“Another of my many failings,” Eleanor laughed.

They finished the meal and then Jim escorted her to a waiting carriage, handing her inside before climbing in himself.  He took her hand as he settled himself beside her and turned to smile at her, “Another two days before we marry.”

“Looking forward to it?” Eleanor asked.

“I think so.” Jim sighed, “I never thought I’d ever marry.”

“Truthfully?” Eleanor regarded him thoughtfully, “neither did I.  Most men don’t want a fiercely independent woman, they want airheads.”

“I never wanted an airhead,” Jim protested, “I just didn’t expect to meet someone – lots of someones –” he amended, “as capable.  And since I intend to continue working for President Grant for as long as possible, I need someone capable.”

“Flatterer,” Eleanor muttered.

“Absolutely,” Jim replied, “it is one of my best weapons.”

Eleanor sighed and then finally giving in, leaned forward and kissed him.  His response was to snake an arm around her midriff and pull her in for a fierce embrace that left her breathless.  The carriage jerked to a halt and they broke away from one another, Jim smiled at her, “Ellie, Sweetheart, if I wasn’t marrying you in one day-”

“Same for me, love,” Eleanor replied, staring at his handsome face.  She looked out of the window, “We’re home.”

Jim smiled and replacing his hat, opened the door and got out of the carriage, he helped Eleanor down.  He paid the cab driver and then offered Eleanor his hand, “Come on, sweetheart.  Time to call it a night.”

The butler opened the door, just as Colonel Gardner emerged from the library, “Ah, Mr West, Eleanor, did you enjoy dinner?”

“It was wonderful, Uncle Robert,” Eleanor replied.  She turned to smile at Jim.  “Would you mind if I went to bed, Jim?  I’m a bit tired.”

“Of course, my dear.  Sleep well.”

“You’ll come to the station with me tomorrow to meet Artie?” Jim asked giving her hand a final squeeze.

“Absolutely,” Eleanor promised.  “Goodnight, love.”

“Goodnight, sweetheart.” Jim replied, and watched as she glided upstairs.  Colonel Gardner turned to the man standing looking up the stairs, “Would you join me for a brandy, Mr West?”

“I’d be delighted, Sir,” Jim smiled at the grey-haired man and removing his hat, followed him into the library.  When Jim came downstairs the following morning, only Eleanor was sitting at the breakfast table.  “Morning, love,” she said, as he walked into the room. “Sleep well?”

“Yes, thanks,” Jim smiled, “you?”

“Yes thank you.”  She smiled at him, and he seated himself opposite.

“My godfather’s gone into town,” Eleanor explained.  “He wanted to speak with the Judge.”

“Anything we’ve done?” Jim enquired.

“No,” Eleanor shook  her head.  “He suggested that we meet him in the Restaurant when we’ve met Mr Gordon.”

“That we can do,” Jim smiled. 

The joy in Artie’s face when he came face to face with his friend was glorious to behold, and they way both men embraced, made Eleanor’s nose hurt and tears prick at her eyes.  Eventually, as if by mutual consent, both men released one another and then Jim cleared his throat, “Eleanor thought we could go for a meal in the local Restaurant.”

“Sounds great, Jim-my-boy,” Artie replied, he turned to Eleanor, “I didn’t expect to see you here, Sweetie!”

“Blame my Uncle,” Eleanor replied dryly, “I rather think that once he received your telegraph message he made plans of his own.”

“Colonel Richmond,” Jim laughed softly, “the cunning, clever, Machiavellian-”

“Underhanded?” Eleanor raised an eyebrow and was rewarded with a typical West grin.

“Yeah, underhanded.” He replied.

“He obviously cares about you both,” Eleanor replied, “in fact I’m surprised that he didn’t accompany you, Mr Gordon.”

“Artemus,” he corrected gently, “he couldn’t leave the capital at this time.  He sends his best wishes and he hopes you know what you’re getting into.”

“I do,” Eleanor replied quietly.

“Not you,” Artemus smiled, “you.”  He turned to Jim.

“Yes, Artie, I do,” Jim replied, flicking a sideways look at Eleanor.

“Good.” Artemus smiled, that warm easy grin that always made Eleanor slightly envious.  “Shall we go for lunch; and then it will be my pleasure to stand up for Jim.”

To Eleanor’s relief, lunch was delightful.  Jim got up to pay the bill and Artemus leaned across to her, “He looks better,” he said softly, “thank you, Ellie.”

“I think you can thank my Uncle for that too,” Eleanor replied, “how’s Washington DC?”

“The work is interesting,” Artemus replied thoughtfully, “although I would be happier if I were back with Jim.”

“I know,” Eleanor replied, gently laying her hand on his arm, “you two are as alike as two peas – even if you would both dispute that.”

Artemus raised an eyebrow, “I hardly think a comparison applies.  Jim is handsome, charming and athletic, I’m-”

“Smart, funny and articulate,” Eleanor responded, “those descriptions could apply equally to both of you.  Anyone who thinks that Jim is all brawn and no brains often gets a nasty wake-up call.”

“Yeah.” Artemus took her hand and bent to kiss her knuckles, “he’s very lucky to have you, Ellie.”

Eleanor looked down, embarrassed as a scarlet flush rose from her neck to her hairline.  Artemus laughed softly and squeezed her fingers. When Jim returned he looked down at them and smiled softly, Eleanor looked up and her whole face softened.

“Are you ready, love?”  Jim asked.

“I’d jump into the mouth of Hell for you, love,” Eleanor replied.

“I think that’s my job,” Artie interjected. 

“You may be right about that Artie,” Eleanor gave him a wry grin.

“Shall we go, love,” Jim held out a hand, “I don’t want to keep Judge Abernathy waiting.”

The ceremony was brief, the Judge shaking both of their hands when it was over. “Congratulations Mr West, Mrs West. I’ve never seen a more handsome couple.” Eleanor blushed at that remark and Jim pulled close for a gentle kiss, “how would you like to visit the Vale of Kashmir?” He asked. “If I’m going to be forced to take a holiday, it better be worth it.”

“For a honeymoon?” She asked and when he nodded she simply smiled, “anywhere with you would be perfect.”

“Then we have to make two stops,” Jim replied, “once at the Telegraph Office and the other at the Stage.”

“I’ll have your trunks packed and waiting,” Colonel Gardner smiled, “you look radiant, Ellie.”

Eleanor kissed him feeling the spiky moustache beneath her lips, “Thank you, Uncle,” she whispered.

“Eleanor you looked radiant,” Artemus said as he hugged her warmly and kissed her cheek. When he released her he bent and murmured softly, “I never thought he’d find the right person.  For that I thank you, Ellie.”

“Oh, Artie,” Eleanor looked up at him and felt tears spring into her eyes, “I never thought I’d find the right person either.  So I should thank you.”

“Just look after one another,” Artie said quietly.

“We will,” Jim suddenly appeared at her shoulder.  “Look after yourself, Artie, try not to annoy them in Washingon DC too much.”

“I never annoy,” Artemus pretended to look affronted.  “It’s not my fault if their machines don’t work and I can build better ones.”

“Just try and obey Basic Rule Number One,” Eleanor sighed.

“Basic Rule Number One?” Artie frowned.

“The most intelligent thing you can do is not to let anyone know how intelligent you are.” Eleanor replied.

Artemus laughed, “I shall endeavour to remember it.  Jim-”

“Yes, Artie?” Jim was moving away from her and she watched both men speaking to one another, their heads very close together.  She watched them for a couple of moments, suddenly feeling privileged to see the depth of their friendship.

“Eleanor,” a voice at her elbow made her turn and she looked up into the face of her godfather, he handed her a glass of champagne, “To celebrate your Wedding.”

“Thank you,” she replied, lifting the glass to her lips, her eyes riveted on the two men.

“Accept him for who he is,” Colonel Gardner warned, “promise?”

“I shall do my utmost,” Eleanor replied.

“Good.” Her godfather replied, “now come and thank the Judge.”

Reluctantly she turned away and followed the Colonel.  An hour later Jim was handing Eleanor up into the stage and then turning to shake Colonel Gardner’s hand, “Thank you, Sir. It’s been a pleasure meeting you.”

“And you, Mr West. Look after each other.”

“We will Uncle Robert,” Eleanor said leaning out of the window.  She smiled at Artemus, “Take care, Artie.  You’ll be back together soon.”

“You’re not going to interfere are you?” Artemus warned.

“No.” Eleanor promised, “I only called in one favour.”

“Good.” Artemus grinned.  “See you soon, Buddy.”

Jim smiled again, “See you soon, Pal,"  and with the litheness of a panther bounded into the carriage. Sitting beside Eleanor he took her hand and asked, “Well, Mrs West? Ready for the next big adventure?”

“With you? Always.” Eleanor replied.

 

**End**

 


End file.
